Mine Enemy
by Ethan-Silas
Summary: Ten years after a one night stand, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are forced together once more when they find out their sons are either best friends or something much, much more.
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter had white knuckles as he gripped the steering wheel harder than he'd ever gripped anything in his life.  
He couldn't believe it. Finally, after years of fighting with Ginny and the courts, his children were with him. The mere thought of it nearly brought tears to his eyes, even as he drove the car.  
James was fifteen now. He sat beside his father in the front seat, to the left of him, looking as calm as ever. His mahogany hair was dyed a minty color on top, the sides shaved down. He was tall, taller than Ron even, but he had the build of a Chaser. He wore loose black jeans, a Lynyrd Skynyrd shirt, and an old leather jacket; his wardrobe was everything Sirius had owned, as well as half of his grandfather's and a good quarter of Remus' (namely, all of the jumpers). His skin was lighter than Harry's, but he did have a healthy tan underneath small, plentiful freckles. He wore his James' old glasses, perched proudly on his nose.  
Albus was thirteen. He was behind James in the car, staring out the window. He'd been the most adversely affected by Ginny's newfound drinking, but still did not want to live with Harry. He had inherited his father's black messy curls, but cut it similarly to James. The sides were very, very short, but the top was a bit longer, the dense curls spilling onto the shaved sides and his brows. He was a tad darker than Harry, and he had his lime-colored eyes. His facial features were extremely similar to Harry's, but his chin was much sharper (like Harry's mother) and his nose was longer (like Ginny's). His eyebrows were curly as well; something Harry had always found extremely amusing. He wore his emerald green Weasley sweater with it's bright silver A and tight, frayed white jeans.  
Lily was eleven and in the middle of the backseat, her head on Albus' shoulder, auburn eyes closed. She had flaming red hair, the orange color of Ginny's thick, fluffy hair, and the thin and silky texture of her namesake. Her skin was the lightest shade of white, like her grandmother's, but it had an impossible amount of freckles, like Ginny. She was short like Lily and very thin like Ginny. Her eyelashes were impossibly long and her nose was upturned. She wore a light blue camisole, a purple tutu, and a pink and purple pair of leggings.  
Harry exhaled through his nose slowly as he pulled into the driveway of his home in Godric's Hollow. It was the house he'd been born in, the house in which his parents had died. It had been in the Potter family for as long as the had been called the Potters. Harry had fixed it up not long after he and Ginny had gotten engaged, and not long before Ginny discovered that Dean lived but a ten minutes drive away. Long ago, when the pain of divorce had been fresh in his heart, he'd blamed the house for Ginny leaving him. If they hadn't been so close...  
But it was what it was. Harry and Ginny obviously weren't meant to be. Harry had moved on now. He still loved Ginny, as he always would; she was his first real love, the mother of his children, and the only person he'd ever wanted besides-  
Harry cleared his throat and realized all four of them were sitting in the parked car.  
"Well," Harry said, face flushing. "Let's go."  
"The doors are locked," Albus said in a dull voice. Harry blinked stupidly and unlocked them.  
Harry carried the sleeping Lily into the house. James and Albus walked shoulder to shoulder a meter behind.  
James was a Gryffindor, like Harry. The boy was very proud of it, but he wasn't prejudiced against the other Houses, even with as much as he knocked on them. Albus, being the brunt of many of James' Slytherin jokes, knew better than anyone that they were simply that; jokes, with no ill-will intended. Harry was surprised at how close James and Al had gotten, especially since the latter had gone off to Hogwarts. From what Harry had heard, James was Al's only friend; Albus got a lot of heat for being in Slytherin. The one time Harry had tried to defend him, Albus had furious and refused to visit him for three months. Harry never tried to interfere again.  
Harry tucked Lily into her bed in her very girly, colorful room. Most of it was pastel pink, but had green and blue and purple throughout.  
After Lily was situated, Harry joined his sons in the kitchen. Albus had started washing the dishes, something he was wont to do, and James was leaning across the peninsula, eating one of the chocolate rice krispie treats Hermione had given Harry a plate of for his birthday.  
"Happy belated birthday," Albus said without emotion, his green sleeves pushed up.  
Al, despite often sporting his House colors, was surprisingly indifferent about it. He'd made it known that he wasn't the fondest of Hogwarts in general, and more than once James had joked about shipping him off to Ilvermorny to woo the American girls with his accent. He was very dreadful in all of his classes, with the exception of Potions. His potion skills were so good, in fact, that Ron was positive that he used the Half-Blood Prince's textbook, despite Albus' insistence that 'the only thing he had in common with Grandpa Potter was the shared opinion that Severus Snape was an evil git.' Ron had given him an extra biscuit for that.  
Harry clapped James on the shoulder.  
"Thank you very much, Albus. And James, that's your dessert. No more after dinner."  
The Gryffindor groaned but didn't argue.  
"How was your birthday, Al?"  
Albus made a face. "Dean gave me five dollars, and mum offered me a swig of firewhiskey."  
James looked down, face uncharacteristically solemn. He stopped chewing for a moment.  
Harry looked between his sons, silently. "Well," he said quietly, thinking. "I suppose we're just going to have to make up for it, then. When your things arrive, you both pack a week's worth of things. We'll be off for a trip for Al's birthday; you don't turn thirteen twice." Al turned to look at his father, a bit surprised. Harry smiled brightly, and Al gave a small, upturned corner of mouth in return, eyes unsure. As much as Al resembled Harry, the boy was so different that Harry often forgot. Harry glanced at the clock; six oh three.  
"What do you guys want?"  
"Meatloaf." James said instantly.  
"And mashed potatoes," Albus added.  
"Corn or carrots?" Harry asked.  
"Corn," the boys insisted. Harry smiled and pulled out everything he needed, thawing the frozen hamburger with a spell, and throwing all the ingredients into a large bowl, mixing them. James and Harry chatted casually, about Quidditch and Hogwarts and the Ministry, and Albus even occasionally spoke. After the younger brother finished with the dishes, he began carving potatoes. James took to putting the clean dishes away, and Harry stuck the meatloaf in the oven before shucking the corn. The boys continued to have a pleasant time all throughout the preparation and cooking of the meal. Harry sent James up to awaken his sister when it neared completion, and Albus set the table. They all ate together, talking, and Harry was happier than he'd been, possibly ever. Finally, they were a family… Harry Potter had a family. Something in the bottom of his heart whispered that it was missing something, and bitterly thought of Ginny. They could have been a proper, whole family.

But, as James told a particularly funny joke, and Harry laughed, the man found it hard to think of his family as broken. After dinner, Albus cleaned up, and Lily ran into the living room to turn on a comedy special. Harry helped Albus, neither of them saying much, but it was perhaps the most comfortable Al had been around him in a very long time. When they finished, they brought the tray of treats into the living room. Lily, Albus, and Harry each had one, and James snuck another one, though he didn't realize Harry knew. He man smiled as he watched the television with his family. Eventually, it was Lily's bedtime, and the girl bounded up the stairs. An hour or so later, Albus retired as well, and around eleven thirty, Harry told James to go to bed as well. Not long after, the man followed suit, and for the first time in a long time, he touched the letters from Draco and the unfinished one from himself underneath his alarm clock. He read them once more, eyes closing, before sighing and removing his glasses, setting them down again. It had been a long time ago… Somehow, though, Harry found himself missing the man he'd shared the precious night with.


	2. Chapter 2

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Scorpius Malfoy listened to the loud, booming grandfather clock as he sat in the waiting room of St. Mungo's. Grandmother sat beside him, looking pale and frail, tired and weak. He wished for the hundredth time that Grandfather had agreed to join them… But he couldn't say he didn't understand why he didn't. Lucius Malfoy was a proud, image-conscious man. To be seen as he was- old, 'crippled', resigned to a wheelchair, shaking nigh violently at all times, and at such an early age was unbearable to him.

 _Besides, Scorpius,_ Grandfather's voice sounded inside of the boy's mind. _They've gotten terribly good at countering the effects of blood curses nowadays. You know this- your mother will be fine. I know you're afraid, but you know nothing will happen to her._

This wasn't the first time Mother had been taken to hospital. This wasn't even the worst she'd ever been, not nearly.

Tick. Tock. Tick… Tock… Tick…

Tock…

Scorpius' eyes were getting heavier and heavier as the morning turned to afternoon, and the afternoon to evening. His head had just found its way to rest gently on Grandmother's shoulder when the doctor walked out. "Ma'am," he said solemnly. "A word, please,"

"Is something the matter?" asked Narcissa, worried.

"In private, ma'am, please," the doctor requested gently.

"... Very well," Grandmother said, getting to her feet. Scorpius followed suit, concern etching itself onto his face. Had the spells backfired again? Last time she'd been in the hospital for a month as they carefully reverted her back into her human form. She'd lost her memory, lost her personality. She wasn't quite a feral, violent lynx- not fully- but she certainly had not been his mother. It had been the scariest month of his life, and with how often his mother went to hospital, that was no small feat. The doctor led them into a small, empty room close to his mother's.

"I'm sorry to… inform you," the doctor said, looking reluctantly downwards. Narcissa inhaled sharply, lifting her chin, tensing, as if bracing for something. Frightened, Scorpius looking quickly between the doctor and his grandmother. "The treatment was unsuccessful," he said.

"Unsuccessful how?" she insisted, her face impassive save for the icy air that she often had about her. Scorpius could see the wheels turning in the healer's mind as he thought of how to word that, and incredulously, Scorpius wondered why he hadn't done that before bringing them in here.

"So she's- she's still got the symptoms? The irritability and memory loss and all that?" he demanded. He'd always known it would happen eventually, but it was so much sooner than they'd estimated.

"No," admitted the doctor.

"She's- changed then? Permanently?" Scorpius asked. That would explain why they were in a separate room, if she was- a lynx, now.

"No," said the doctor.

"What, then?" Scorpius demanded uncharacteristically, as tears entered his eyes. He was confused and terrified, and he just wanted to hold her hand. A strange, familiar yearning flooded his chest. He just wanted to hold her hand.

"She's passed away," he finally revealed. Narcissa closed her eyes as her face twisted slightly with grief. But Scorpius only frowned, awash with- shock? Disbelief? His lack of understanding crossed his face.

"What- what do you- what?" he managed, feeling his heart speed up. He felt like he was running a marathon, all of a sudden. The doctor looked pleadingly at Narcissa, as if she could help him explain. "How did you- what?"

"We aren't… Entirely sure yet," he admitted. "An autopsy must be performed to know for certain."

An autopsy. _She's dead_. He'd understood the words at a surface level, before- 'she's passed away' really only had the one meaning- but it had been like someone telling him the sky was orange or grass was pink. But then, suddenly, it hit him, and image of her laying on a table, dead and cold and empty, was conjured in his mind. He gasped audibly, then felt his face screw up in miserable tears. _No- she can't be. She simply can't_.

"Can we see her?" asked Grandmother, her voice unexpectedly soft. Scorpius leaned into her side, and she wrapped an arm around him.

"Of course," said the doctor, leading them to her room. A nurse was still taking the IV out of her arm, though she'd already collected the nasal cannula and oxygen tank.

Mother was as beautiful as ever, though in a less serene and more eerie sort of way. Her hair was still in the loose fishtail braid Narcissa had tied it in this morning. Her expression was neutral, her eyes unsettling as they were still open, yet unseeing. Her lips were agape, and she looked- haunting, and empty. Scorpius felt a sob wrack through him as the image of his mother like this was seared into his brain. "Oh, my God," he gasped, hurrying forward and clutching her hand tightly. Her soft skin was already cool to the touch, and he rubbed her hand gently, knowing it was the last time he'd ever touch her, the last time he'd ever hold her hand. He stared at her unbelievably gorgeous face, so familiar. He felt the nurse eye him awkwardly from across her body before finishing with the IV and leaving with the equipment. The hole was a pin prick of blood, a shocking sight against her colorless skin. Grandmother took her other hand gently, peering at her face. Scorpius retrieved his wand, and Narcissa watched joylessly as he wordlessly closed his mother's eyes with a gentle flick of the wrist, then her mouth. _There_ , he thought softly. _Much better_.

"I'm so sorry, Scorpius," Narcissa breathed some time later. They'd both sat in chairs, and were still holding her hand. Scorpius opened his mouth to respond, but no words came to mind. He almost… Didn't feel sad, anymore, sitting there. It felt exactly like a regular visit to his mother, holding her hand while she slept. Only the dull, far away dread of the future, of being forced to confront the reality of his loss, that remained.

"She's so pretty," Scorpius said finally. "I never really notice it unless she's- like this. Unless I'm afraid it'll be the last time I have the opportunity to notice,"

Narcissa looked at her daughter-in-law, thinking about that. "Yes," she agreed finally. "She's quite beautiful."

"You should call my father," Scorpius said, looking down. "And Grandfather. He'll be worried, I suspect,"

"Yes," said Narcissa. "I'd like to sit a moment longer,"

Scorpius nodded, then lay his head on his mother's shoulder. She was cold now, and the blood on her arm was dark and dry. Her hand was stiff in his. "It doesn't feel real," said Scorpius finally.

"That's good," said Narcissa softly. "As long as it doesn't last very long. Savor these last few moments with her."

He frowned, brow furrowing. He wasn't sure what response he'd been expecting, but it certainly hadn't been that. "What if she's chosen to become a ghost?" he asked after a moment.

Narcissa laughed softly. "I sincerely doubt-"

"But, if she did… What would happen? How would we know?"

Narcissa ran her tongue over her teeth as she was wont to do while thinking. "Well," she said softly. "She'd first manifest as a coldness settling over this room, slowly growing more concentrated as her soul finds its way through Death and back to our world. She'd first appear in this bed, frozen, caught in the exact moment of her death- for her, that wouldn't be particularly troublesome. She'd very slowly be able to regain conscious thought, then movement, and finally, about two weeks to a month from now, she'd be able to move about freely. She wouldn't remember her journey, nor death at all- dying, usually, but not death."

"How do you know?" Scorpius asked softly.

Narcissa looked solemnly into his eyes. "I know many things, Scorpius. A lot of which is much too Dark to explain to a young boy such as yourself."

"What would Mother do then? Stay in St. Mungos forever?"

"I sincerely doubt it," she said. "Ghosts are free to go wherever. I assume she'd likely follow you around; go to Hogwarts with you, return on breaks, and such." Hope lit up in Scorpius' eyes, but Narcissa gave him another look, and he deflated. "I'm sure you know why that wouldn't be a good thing, Scorpius,"

He did. He didn't want to think about that, though. He looked at his mother's face again. "Will they be kicking us out soon?"

"Not likely," she said. "They generally leave you be unless they need the bed, and in the blood curse wing, they shan't be needing it."

They sat in silence for a few moments longer, and then finally, Grandmother excused herself to call her husband and son.

"Your Grandfather extends his condolences," Narcissa said when she returned quite a long time later, looking surprisingly drained. "And your father is on his way as we speak."

"He's coming here?" Scorpius asked indignantly. "To the hospital?"

She looked down. "He's your father, Scorpius. Your parent,"

"So?"

"He'll have custody over you, soon enough. There's already a Ministry official waiting-"

"I don't want to live with him," Scorpius said, blanching. "I've never even met him-"

"You lived with him, before the split-"

"I was two years old!" Scorpius said incredulously. "How could you let him-"

"I can't stop him," she said, wincing. "And even if I could… Your grandfather and I are old and-"

"You don't even want me?" Scorpius asked softly, voice full of hurt he hadn't the mind to hide. He was dumb, and sad, and angry. He rubbed his mother's cold hand.

"Of course we want you," she said fiercely, tears in her silvery eyes. "But we can't handle raising another child. Not in the state we're in."

Scorpius looked at his mother again. About twenty minutes later, a gentle knock sounded on the door before someone walked in.

He was a stranger to Scorpius, but the boy could gather who he must be. His platinum hair was sat atop his head, tousled carelessly, glimmering in the too-bright hospital room. His skin was the same shimmering whiteness as Scorpius', as Lucius', and he had the same face as his father and son, as well. He wore a grey dress shirt, slightly crumpled, the sleeves rolled up, and dark trousers. He and Scorpius looked at each other for a long time before Scorpius' eyes settled on his father's dress shoes. Draco looked at his mother, who was eyeing him lovingly, then reluctantly looked at his ex-wife's face. He took a few steps forward and hugged Narcissa, then reached tentatively towards Astoria's hand.

"Don't touch her," snapped Scorpius uncharacteristically. Draco looked at his son, then nodded and pulled his hand away, saddened. He peered down at the mother of his child with a medley of emotions, most of which were unfamiliar to Scorpius. He grievously closed his eyes, and Scorpius suddenly felt quite bad about snapping at him. Draco cleared his throat and leaned against the wall. "I guess you're in charge of me, now," said Scorpius quietly a while later. Draco opened his mouth, then promptly closed it. "I want to stay the night with Grandmother and Grandfather," Scorpius went on, raising his chin, trying to look as if his say was important. Once, it had been, but he'd never acted so- childishly. Impetuously.

"Scorpius…" said Narcissa softly, sounding… Broken. "There's a reason Lucius didn't come with us today,"

Scorpius looked at his Grandmother, frowning deeply. "What?"

"He's gone off to St. Oswalds today," she admitted. "I can't- I can't take care of him anymore," she admitted, looking down just as a single tear fell. "I'll be joining him, too, when they can prepare a double room for us to share. You know- you know we're declining."

Scorpius stared at her for a long time, just… Despondent. "What? You didn't- you didn't tell me?"

"We were going to," she said. "But then, with your mother…"

"You thought it would be best if I just- came home to him gone?" he said.

"Scorpius, please," she said softly. "Just go with your father tonight, okay?"

He looked at Draco, who looked back at him, his eyes sad and far-away, his face forlorn and dejected. "Okay," he said, then gave a humorless laugh. _I don't have a choice, do I?_

"I wish there was- anything I could do that would help you," said Draco softly, looking at the floor as if seeing his son hurt him. "But, even if anyone could… I know I'm the last person that would be. That being said…" he dragged his eyes up to meet Scorpius' for a moment. "I will do whatever you want, give you whatever you need. Space, or comfort. If you want- things, or… The year off of school or… Anything at all, if I can do it, I will."

Scorpius looked at his father for a long time. He could tell he was trying very hard, but was so afraid and unsure. Remorse for acting so- poorly flooded Scorpius' chest. "Thank you."

Draco got a small, sad smile, then looked over at Astoria. "She's as beautiful as ever, isn't she?"

"Yes," said Scorpius, feeling himself begin to cry for the first time. He sobbed into one hand, holding onto his mother even still with the other. Draco stood up and slowly made his way over to his son, dropping to his knee in front of him. Scorpius all but collapsed against his father, his face against his collar. Draco held him and ran a hand through his hair, just like Grandmother did, though his hand felt entirely different.

"It'll be okay, Scorpius," he said. "You'll see her again someday, when it's your time, and you'll spend forever together. I promise."

Scorpius cried harder at that, though it was strangely comforting. He could see the two of them in the blackness that his mind conjured in place of this enigmatic 'death', a family reunited once more. Grandmother and Grandfather off to the side… Even Draco, standing awkwardly off to the side, a strange and new addition to the mental image of Scorpius' family.

Eventually, he was done crying, and awkwardly got back into his seat. He gently sat his father's hand atop his mother's, and Draco frowned deeply, inhaling slowly, as he looked over at her. There was a strange and unfamiliar sort of love in his eyes- it was not the familial gleam apparent in his mother's eyes whenever she looked at him, nor the sweet fondness of Grandmother, nor the reserved pride of Grandfather. It wasn't the deep and soulful love his grandparents shared. It did not seem happy nor great at all, in fact, though it seemed distinctly like love.

"I'd like to go to bed soon," Scorpius whispered a very long while later.

"Come on, then, son," said Draco softly, standing. _Son_. Scorpius stood, then looked at his mother's face again, etching it into his memory. He looked at her hand; letting go of it had become some giant, horrible, impossible milestone. _This is the last time I will ever hold your hand_.

And then, his hand released hers, an easy action to perform. He inhaled deeply, slowly, looking at her. "Goodbye," he breathed, voice breaking. He turned and followed his father out, feeling numb and far away. He climbed into a car parked outside in the small parking lot of the large hospital, examining it numbly; he'd never seen a car before. It was large, the interior and exterior all entirely black. They arrived at a shitty apartment building some time later. "We'll have to move," he said quietly. "But I'd been intending on that, anyway. Been saving up,"

"Okay," said Scorpius. None of it seemed real. As if he could sense this, Draco gave him an apologetic look.

"I'm so very sorry. All this change- it must be horrible, and on top of…" he looked down. "I'm truly sorry."

"I know," said Scorpius, unsure how to respond. Draco led his son to a door, letting him into a sleek apartment with one bed and a small futon sofa beside the foot of it.

"The futon is more comfortable, believe it or not," said Draco. "But you can take the bed or the couch, whatever you'd like,"

"I'll take the futon, then, I suppose," said Scorpius. "Thank you,"

If the bed was less comfortable than the futon, Scorpius felt very sorry indeed for Draco and his back.


End file.
